Roleplay Central

Fantastical. [Open, jump in]

You live in the middle ages. Swell.
You assume your parents are dead, and quite frankly, you don't give a damn. You see, in addition to living in the middle ages, your existence is trash, and is also terrible. Probably due to the fact that you belong to the lowest social class, and also the fact that it is also the middle ages. This combination increases the amount of outrageous terribleness in your uncared-about existence.
In addition to all of this, you are conscripted into the King's Army. Also swell.
Prepare to embark on a bloody fantastical adventure in the life of a militarily drafted peasant with a bollocksy life, armed with a spear and a pair of ragged shoes.
Hooray.

Fantastical. [Open, jump in]

"The Serjeant" as he is called, paces. Why he is pacing, nobody knows, or cares. Around his shoulder is a massive military glaive, a long timber stick with a long blade at the end of it, capable of decapitating someone in one good swing.
This person, "The Serjeant" is also clad is mail armour and a knight's helmet with the visor torn off, which was scavenged from a dead nobleman.
Not much is known about this here "Serjeant", but his life basically consists of slaughtering people, obviously.